Morning Light
by Gucia
Summary: Lucifer wakes up in the desert with a new pair of wings and to a reality where his siblings are at war with each other and with humanity. What will he do and which side will he choose? More importantly: What happens when two brothers who haven't seen each other since their epic fight millennia ago meet under unusual circumstances?
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

" _Darkness comes. In the middle of it, the future looks blank. The temptation to quit is huge. Don't. You are in good company... You will argue with yourself that there is no way forward. But with God, nothing is impossible. He has more ropes and ladders and tunnels out of pits than you can conceive. Wait. Pray without ceasing. Hope."_

John Piper

Everything hurt, a burning sensation Lucifer was all too familiar with was what woke him. Slowly, the Devil got to his feet, looking at the vast desert plains in disbelief. How did he get here? The last thing he remembered was visiting Linda and calling Chloe – he was going to tell her everything, and then… everything went black. In the far distance, Lucifer could just make out the outline of mountains through the haze caused by the glaring sunlight, though he had no idea what they were or where they were located, so that wasn't much help. Was he even in the United States anymore? Every movement caused him pain, the grains of fine sand covering his body were doing no favours for his burned skin, and that wasn't even the worst of it. Bracing himself, the fallen angel looked at the two offending appendages which were making it even more difficult to stand at the moment, pulling him backward with their forgotten, yet achingly familiar weight. Stark white and positively blinding as they reflected the rays of desert sunlight, Lucifer's wings stretched out proudly from either side of him as the once favoured son glared up at the sky, knowing he would get no answers from his Father. He never did.

With a heavy sigh, Lucifer Morningstar started walking towards the unknown mountain range, as it was the only distinguishable point of reference he could see. At least there he could hope to find some water and shade. Stubborn as he was, he refused to use the "gift" he'd received and stumbled his way forward, he finally conceded defeat only by using his wings to cast some shade over his head. They flexed and followed his desires so well it was as if he'd never lost them. _Muscle memory_. He snorted, wondering briefly if flying could possibly be that easy too. Still, his wings felt sore and tender, his back felt like it had been torn open, which was rather apt, as that was what must have happened to him, and Lucifer wouldn't take his chances flying at the moment. He didn't fancy falling to the scorching, rocky surface from any higher than he was now, with his feet firmly planted on the ground, thank you very much!

...

Alex rushed to Michael's side as the Archangel fell, a piece of Furiad's blade protruding from his abdomen. She barely paid any attention to the red-armoured higher angel as he flew away after having uttered his threat. If they really did see each other soon, Alex hoped it would be over Furiad's cold, dead body. As furious as she'd been with Michael for keeping things from her, as distrustful of his intentions, all it took was the sight of the angel getting hurt to quell her last remaining doubts, to remind her of all the times and all the different ways the Archangel had looked out for her over the years...

It was her fault! Michael wouldn't have come here if it hadn't been for Alex and he certainly wouldn't have let himself be injured if he hadn't been distracted and worried for Alex's safety. Sergeant Lannon was a soldier and she knew how to fight, but damn it if Michael hadn't spent most of the time with his eyes on his subordinate, his Chosen One, rather than on his own opponent! It was a foolish mistake, one anyone else in the Archangel Corps would have been severely punished for – by being assigned extra training and probably having some of their privileges revoked, to drive the lesson home. Clearly, Michael needed to learn to practise what he preached... As she tried to lift the angel's long, heavy form and place him in the jeep without disturbing the sword shard, Alex just hoped she'd get a chance to remind her commander of this in the future. Seeing the divine being so helpless and vulnerable, bleeding profusely when Lannon hadn't even known Archangels _could_ bleed, it was all it took not to let panic set in. Michael was the saviour and protector of humanity, the invulnerable, powerful saviour and protector of Vega and the only constant Alex had ever known. The soldier blinked back a tear as a soft, pained moan escaped the angel's lips when she finally managed to deposit him in the passenger's seat. It made her gut clench and left her feeling sick. It was wrong. It was so wrong.

"Just hold on, Michael. Just hold on." She pleaded as she secured the seatbelt to hold him in place, speaking more to calm herself than to the unconscious being. Michael's face was pale and clammy, a pained frown between his brows. It was surreal, to see the composed, steadfast angel like this, when he had always seemed entirely void of emotion, cool and collected no matter the situation. Alex swallowed hard. Except that he wasn't and clearly never had been as unmoved and unfeeling as he appeared. The tears he'd shed earlier, repeating a promise he'd made long ago, were something that would forever be ingrained in Alex's memory. "Don't leave me." She whispered softly, daring to touch the Archangel's face and brush a lock of hair from his forehead. "Don't leave me, Michael." The young woman pressed a gentle kiss against the frown line that had tantalised her for longer than she would admit and a single tear rolled down her cheek. Alex closed her eyes and took a deep breath, gathering her courage and strength: she would get Michael to Vega and he would be fine.


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

" _You don't choose your family. They are God's gift to you, as you are to them."_

Desmond Tutu

Lucifer Morningstar had finally made it to the cover of the mountains, when what felt like a wave of pain slammed into him, knocking him to his knees. The last time he'd felt such gut-wrenching pain was when... when he'd stabbed Uriel... but it hadn't been that intense then. Despite the heavy weight of guilt, Lucifer had never been very close with Uriel, and the loss hadn't been as strong as the mental onslaught he was under at the moment. He also hadn't had his grace then, meaning he had been much weaker and so had his connection with his siblings. This was different, it felt like... Michael. It felt like his brother Michael and it felt like... dying. Lucifer gasped and his eyes flashed red, his face shifting to his other form in fury. How dare someone hurt Michael?! No one but him was allowed to hurt Mikey, and Lucifer would never go so far as to kill his little brother... not if there was any other way, that is. What happened with Uriel meant that he couldn't make that assertion with any kind of certainty anymore.

The Devil took a deep, calming breath, and tried to regain control of himself. All angels, especially the Archangels and the higher angels to a lesser extent, were connected through their grace. While in Heaven, the connection between them was extremely strong, like a joint consciousness they were all a part of – together yet apart, one with each other and one with their Father. It was voluntary, each and every one of them had the power to withdraw and block the connection, however, before humanity, before God's angels' loyalties had been divided, before Lucifer's own rebellion, the thought of losing that sense of unity and wholeness had never entered any of their minds. There'd been no secrets, no doubts, no division – just peace and tranquillity. The Devil made a conscious effort not to think back on that time, it was too painful and it served no purpose. He honestly hadn't given any thought to the connection he'd once shared with his siblings until this moment, because he recognised the searing pain in his chest for what it was – his link to Michael had flared up, no doubt because of whatever injury his brother had suffered. Millennia ago, Gabriel and Michael had been the brothers Lucifer had been the closest to and, particularly with Michael, their bond had almost been as strong as the unique, twin bond between Mikey and Gabe. Nonetheless, that was then and this was now – that was when they were in Heaven, the bond had always been weaker on Earth, though apparently it was still strong enough to reach even an estranged sibling in a crisis.

Lucifer felt his blood run cold as he realised the gravity of the situation. Michael was close to death, he wouldn't have felt him otherwise. He wouldn't _still_ be feeling him, if his little brother wasn't in great danger. Swallowing his pride, the Son of the Morning drew upon his newly regained grace to swiftly heal the injuries and soreness the sun and re-growing his wings had wrought and, with a steadying breath, he took to the sky, letting instinct and muscle memory take over as he focused on locating the source of the inadvertent cry for help he'd intercepted. He knew he wasn't the designated recipient – how could he be? The Devil actually doubted whether his brother had meant to summon anyone at all, what he'd felt hadn't seemed like a conscious attempt at making contact, rather an involuntary cry of agony which Michael, proud and strong warrior that he was, would have done his damndest to suppress, if only he'd been able to.

...

Alex kept throwing anxious looks at the injured Archangel in the passenger seat beside her, checking to make sure he was still breathing. They were nearing Vega, the outer reaches of the city at least, and the destroyed and abandoned buildings on the outskirts of what was once Las Vegas painted a depressing picture. Suddenly, as she turned back to watch the road, the sergeant saw a man standing in the middle of the street in front of her. With a cry of surprise, she hit the brakes. There was nowhere to go, no way of moving around him to avoid collision in the narrow street, where half of it was covered in debris from a crumbling building on the right. The man stood tall and unflinching as the jeep screeched to a halt, the front bumper scant inches from his long legs, while Alex tried to catch her breath and recover from shock as she assessed whether he was a threat or not. He appeared human, no veins across his face or black eyes to signal an 8-ball possession, but Alex knew better now than to assume anything. After all, Michael seemed human too, right up to the point where he sprouted wings that could deflect bullets and cut a person in two or when he moved faster than the human eye could blink. Truth be told, the strangest thing about the man was that he only had black trousers on, with no shirt or weapons that Alex could see. His skin was bronzed by the sun and dusty with the desert sand. The stranger had black hair and a few days worth of stubble on his jaw – he was definitely very handsome, she noted almost despite herself – but the most arresting thing about him were his dark, piercing eyes, locked on the passenger's seat to Alex's right in what could only be described as worry and fury...

"Michael!" Alex cried in alarm, worried herself, and turned to the Archangel in fear. Her heart was in her throat as she anxiously awaited his next shallow breath. His pale face was twisted in an expression of pain, the stain on his shirt was pulsing with fresh, gurgling blood from where the sudden braking had shifted the sword shard imbedded in his abdomen. Michael's eyes fluttered open, looking around deliriously and he moaned softly before losing consciousness again. The door on the passenger's side opened violently and Lannon remembered the stranger who'd caused them to stop here. She was a soldier! She shouldn't have allowed herself to be distracted in the face of a potential threat! "What are you doing? I need to get him to Vega! He needs help!" Alex shouted, remembering her gun, she cocked it at the dark man, who ignored both her and the weapon aimed at his head, intent only on getting to the injured angel.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you, little human." The man said lowly, his whole being emanating danger, as he hovered over Michael and appeared to hesitate for a moment, as if unsure of what he wanted to do, his hand was stretched out while the other still rested on the door. His dark eyes flicked to her for no more than a second before they returned to the wounded Archangel. "Guns have little to no effect on me and since you seem to be trying to save my baby brother here, it would be a shame if you got hurt." Saying that, he seemed to come to a decision and reached out a hand and brushed Michael's sweaty hair from his forehead and moved his other hand to the wound, pulling the Archangel's shirt away a little to better assess the damage. "This is Empyrean Steel." He said in surprise. "Furiad's blade. How did Michael get stabbed with that dog's sword?" He ground out, looking at Alex questioningly. She could have sworn his eyes flashed red fire for an instant.

"We were attacked by three higher angels and a bunch of 8-balls. Who are you? You're a higher angel too, right? You look human." The young woman asked. The gentle care he displayed in touching Michael and the fury on his face once he recognised the blade went a long way in assuring her of his good intentions, though she wasn't ready to relinquish her weapon anytime soon, regardless of how much damage it could or couldn't do to the angel in front of her.

"You know about angels?" He looked positively shocked. "Why would any of the Powers go after Michael? He's Heaven's General for Dad's sake!" He exclaimed, but a glance at his brother's face forced him to prioritise. "Never mind. If you've been attacked by angels, we need to get him somewhere safe. Even with my help, it will take time for Mikey to recover his full strength completely, with all the blood that he's lost. Did you have somewhere in mind? I assume so, the way you were speeding. Vega, you said?"

"Yes, I did. Who are you?" Alex repeated her question more forcefully. Him saying that he would help and speaking so confidently of Michael's full recovery calmed her further. She couldn't feel the tell-tale tingling of the tattoos shifting in warning or giving her a message so she could only trust her gut instinct. Surely having one of his own kind to turn to, someone who clearly cared about Michael more than about the ongoing war, was the best thing that could have happened under the circumstances? On the other hand, how come this angel didn't seem to be aware of the conflict between his own brothers or even what Vega was? It was clear from the way he pronounced the name that he didn't know what the city was. Had he been so cut off from everything? Michael had stressed the existence of neutral angels many times, the Powers had been neutral to begin with as well. Could one be so neutral that they had no idea what was going on?

"How rude of me. Allow me to introduce myself, darling, I'm Lucifer Morningstar and I'm the Devil." Lucifer said with a charming smile. "As for looking human, technically speaking, I'm an Archangel and I've had this vessel for millennia, ever since Dad created you lot and decided we needed to be able to blend in when He sent us to Earth." He turned to Alex, who stared at him, stunned. _The Devil?_ The Devil was real? Then again, she had the Archangel Michael bleeding out on her passenger seat so it wasn't that much of a stretch for more of what had been written in the Bible to be real, was it? Not that Alex had ever read the text herself, hardly anyone did anymore.

Perhaps that was a mistake, but it was something to consider later, preferably when Michael was healed and back to being his annoyingly calm and infuriatingly smug self.

"The Devil, right. Of course. Why not? Nice to meet you, Lucifer."

With nary a blink, the woman made up her mind and accepted Morningstar's words as the truth and then moved on to the next problem at hand: How was she going to get an injured Michael and a stranger into the city without arousing suspicion and panic? It was one thing to drive into Vega with the city's protector, who clearly needed to go to the infirmary, even if Alex herself was probably considered a deserter by now and would be arrested on sight. Adding this new angel into the mix? It would definitely not go well – for any of them.

"What about you, sweetheart? What's your name and what are you doing in this Father-forsaken place with _Michael_ , of all beings?" Lucifer asked flirtatiously, though she could tell he was genuinely curious and somewhat confused.

"I'm Alex Lannon." Alex said distractedly. She decided against giving him any more information at the moment. It would be up to Michael to decide how much to tell his brother – he knew his siblings better anyway. And speaking of Michael... "Can you heal him? Does he need to go to the hospital or can you do some magic, prayer or whatever and heal him?" Sergeant Lannon asked. She had a plan that might hopefully get them into the city safely.

"All I need is a place where we can lay him down so he's safe and comfortable for the next few hours. It's not magic or a prayer," his lips twisted in an amused smirk, "but I can heal him. We don't need doctors or human medicine for this." Lucifer replied, wrinkling his nose at the mention of human medicine and hospitals. He looked down at Michael. He could heal him here, truth be told, but Michael would likely remain unconscious for several hours afterwards. It was better if he was lying down and, if angels were attacking other angels, it would be better if they were somewhere less open and indefensible.

The Devil didn't fully understand what was going on here. This ruined city they were in looked like Las Vegas to him, his knowledge of geography and the route he had to fly to get here definitely confirmed this, however, the last time he'd visited Sin City just a few months ago, there'd been a lot more lights and fun going on... Not to mention this human girl knowing about angels and taking his introduction as the Devil in stride like she did... There was something off about her, and it wasn't just her easy acceptance and familiarity with the divine. Lucifer couldn't quite put his finger on it just now. It was all very strange... no stranger than waking up in the desert sporting a new pair of wings, though... or any of the stuff that had been happening to and around him recently, really, so he couldn't judge. As much as he hated to admit it, Michael might actually be the best person to explain everything, being God's good little soldier and always following His orders to the letter, he was sure to know exactly what was going on.

Too bad patience wasn't the Devil's strong suit.

Seeing his sibling like this, hurt and vulnerable, the fury and hatred he'd nursed ever since his Fall seemed to be deflating by the second. Archangel Michael, General of the Holy Host and God's Sword, the one who'd been charged with casting his wayward brother out of Heaven, was the epitome of strength and righteous wrath, the embodiment of blind faith and loyalty to their Father, even more so than Amenadiel, making him everything that Lucifer despised – the being in front of Lucifer now, however, was just Mikey, his baby brother who needed him.

 _I'll heal him first and then I'll punch his smug, sanctimonious face in later_. The Son of the Morning decided.


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

" _ **Stab the body and it heals, but injure the heart and the wound lasts a**_ _ **lifetime."**_

 **Mineko Iwasaki**

It had been disturbingly easy to sneak Lucifer and Michael into the city and even into the Stratosphere lift without being noticed. Alex made a mental note to discuss tightening security measures with the Archangel as soon as possible. As much as she enjoyed her own little excursions outside the city walls and wasn't too keen on limiting her own freedom, Vega wasn't safe if a human and two angels could get to the very heart of it with nobody being the wiser.

The metal doors slid shut and Alex led the way into Michael's suite, while Lucifer carried his brother's long, lean body with astonishing ease. For all the effort it seemed to require, he could be carrying a baby, not a fully grown man... angel. The Devil let out a whistle, looking around. After all the ruin and destruction he'd witnessed on his way here, the luxury and opulence of these rooms were not what he'd been expecting.

"Nice digs, darling. Is this your place?" He gave Alex a curious once-over as he carried Michael into the circular bedroom. He appeared singularly impressed with the huge bed. "The things we could do on that bed..." Morningstar turned to Alex and waggled his eyebrows suggestively. The care he took gently depositing his brother on said bed belied his careless and ill-timed flirting, so she chose to ignore it.

"It's the Archangel's bed, actually." Alex smirked at the angel's disgruntled look at the news. "The Stratosphere is his tower and the Archangel Corps Headquarters are below. I'm sure if you ask nicely, your brother will let you join in on one of his orgy nights." Lucifer had been flirting with her incessantly throughout their clandestine journey, not discouraged in the least by her continuously expressed lack of interest and irritation. It was time to get some payback in the teasing department. So what if she had to use her ill-gained knowledge of Michael's not-so-secret secret stargazing sessions to do it? The self-proclaimed Devil was probably the last person she expected to actually mind what Michael was doing, so it couldn't do any real harm. He wasn't Whele or Riesen, to whom she'd never reveal the Archangel's secrets.

Lucifer, who'd somehow gravitated to the cabinet where the Archangel kept his liquor almost dropped the bottle of whiskey he'd picked up.

"His what? Join?" He sputtered. "That's... that's disgusting! That's... ugh..." Morningstar shuddered and shook his head violently as if to dispel the image from his mind. His behaviour and body language were so dramatic and open, it was hard to believe he and the stoic Archangel were related. "I'm all for fulfilling one's desires and getting dirty, but there are limits to even the Devil's depravity. The mere thought of Mikey and sex together in the same sentence is one of them!"

"Well, the two definitely more than go in a sentence together, from what I've heard." Lannon smirked at the horrified angel, before she reminded him why they were here at all. "Now put that bottle down. You're here to heal your brother, not drink his booze."

"Oh, bossy. I like it." Lucifer leered. He opened the bottle and raised it to his lips. Just before taking a large gulp, he said: "There's no reason why I can't do both, little soldier. Angels can't get drunk and my drinking has no effect on my ability to heal."

"But the fact that he's lost a lot of blood and he's had a mortal wound in his gut for hours surely does! That's why you came, isn't it? To help him? Because he wouldn't survive otherwise?"

"Alright, alright! Relax a little, Sunshine. Mikey's going to be fine, my word is my bond." He took another swig of the whiskey. It was quite good, actually. Mikey was clearly full of surprises today – the tower, the room, the choice alcohol... orgies... their flaring connection... Morningstar felt he needed much, much more than this one bottle, really and that didn't even take into consideration what had happened the day before – Mother, Chloe, getting knocked out and waking up in the desert with unwanted appendages...

Speaking of the Dad-damned things, Lucifer unfolded his wings and the sight of the beautiful, glowing white plumage startled Alex. She couldn't help but stare at them in astonishment. The light filtering through the windows made them hard to look at, it was almost like looking at the sun.

"Your wings are white!" She exclaimed.

"Why of course they are. I am the Lightbringer, after all. I couldn't exactly fly around with black feathers like everyone else, now, could I?" Lucifer said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world that his wings should be unique among all his siblings. It had always been that way and he'd never questioned it. Once upon a time, when his Father's approval and love had still mattered to him, he'd been proud of the distinction. He'd been the Favourite Son. His had been the wings of paintings and frescoes – the white feathers resplendent and glorious, as blinding and marvellous as the stars he'd lighted. Now, however...

Now he was just glad he had his wings because it meant that he could use just a single one of his feathers to bring Michael back from the brink of death. Everything else could wait. He would deal with his other... _emotions_... when he could talk to Linda again. She always helped him put things into perspective after all. He had to make sure she had a job to return to once she got out of the hospital too, once he was back. Maze had been adamant they should help, but with everything else going on and with his inability to lie, Lucifer hadn't been much use, he could admit that in hindsight. He would do better once he got back to LA, if it turned out Maze hadn't dealt with the problem with her usual... finesse. Come to think of it, Linda had been back in her office when his mother had come to her. Did that mean she had her license back? It hadn't even occurred to him to ask... Maybe he really was as much of a selfish ass as Maze claimed he was?

If he kept it up, it wouldn't take much to get Mazikeen pissed off enough to actually be willing to help him cut his wings off again once they'd outlived their current usefulness. That'd be one less problem to deal with at least. Finding out who had knocked him out, restored his wings and brought him to this strange place was paramount, though. Whoever they were, Lucifer was determined to introduce them to Hell personally.

The Devil flexed his wings experimentally before he tried to curl one towards himself. The movement felt natural and awkward at the same time, but rather than dwell on it, their owner plucked a rather large feather and held it over the wound in his brother's stomach.

"I need you to pull out the shard." He addressed Alex. Meanwhile, he tried to hide his wings again. Unlike before, when they'd followed his commands with surprising ease, this time they wouldn't budge.

"Me?"

"Well of course you, there's no one else here, is there?" The angel said in exasperation, though it was more a result of his wings refusing to cooperate than anything else. "Now hurry up, chop-chop, little soldier. We've wasted enough time as it is, and the longer we wait, the longer Mikey's recovery will take and I for one have better things to do than sit about waiting for His High and Mightiness here to wake up."

While trying to pry a piece of sword from Michael's still bleeding wound was pretty far down on the list of things Alex ever wanted to do in her life, she didn't argue. The metal was slippery with blood, though, and getting it out was easier said than done.

"Careful now, we don't want you to cut your fingers off there, love." Lucifer said unhelpfully as Lannon's fingers slipped yet again. The soldier glared at him.

"Oh really? Why don't you do it then?" She said sarcastically.

"I don't fancy getting cut by Empyrean Steel myself, darling. Those wounds are always a nuisance to heal properly. Often enough they leave scars even if they do, too. I'm rather partial to my hands staying as beautiful and unmarred as they are. The ladies would be so disappointed if I spoiled something so perfect."

 _Was this guy for real?_ Alex rolled her eyes, but made another valiant attempt, this time managing to get a firmer grip on the metal in question and pulling it out a little. Blood gushed from the wound and Michael gasped in pain. His eyes opened for a moment before he squeezed them shut.

"Father...?" He asked breathlessly, all he felt was pain and, at first, all he could see was light. Bright, blinding light. "Father...?" That's what the warmth at his side felt like... he felt a strong presence... grace and light. His Father's touch was near... and fresh. It was something he hadn't felt since his own resurrection, when God had not only brought him back to life, but had given him his wings back.

"Now there's no need to be insulting, Mikey. Here I am, trying to save your life and that's how you show gratitude?" A hauntingly familiar voice scoffed from his right.

"Lu...Lucifer?" Michael whispered in astonishment. He opened his eyes and squinted against the white glare reflecting off his brother's magnificent wings. That explained the light and the grace... Only, Father had stripped Samael of his grace before ordering his other Archangels to kill their brother. There was no way the Lightbringer could actually be here now, with all his glory restored, which meant that Michael himself had to be dead or dreaming. Though, the last time he'd died, he couldn't remember seeing the Son of the Morning there with him. Not that he'd been dead for long 25 years ago, Father had quickly restored him. He couldn't remember any of his pain carrying on into death either...

"You're not dead, Mikey, and neither am I." Lucifer said, exasperated and incredulous. His white feather still poised over torn flesh, momentarily forgotten. The wings at his back gave a twitch, but still refused to disappear. _Stubborn bloody things!_ "What's all that about you dying 25 years ago?" His brow wrinkled in confusion and surprise.

Michael realised that he must have voiced some of his thoughts aloud.

"Nothing, it doesn't matter." Michael muttered through gritted teeth. _Dear Father it hurts!_ "I'm dying... or I should be dead already..." His voice trailed off and he studied the figure leaning over him. It really did look like Lucifer... He was hallucinating. Clearly.

"It's definitely what Furiad had in mind, that's for certain. Whether that's what should have happened or not, well, that's not really my place to say. Dad works in mysterious ways and has His own grand plan for everything and all that rot..." Morningstar grimaced in distaste. "It's definitely not going to happen on my watch, I can assure you of that, baby brother. I still plan on giving you a good ass kicking once you're all better, though. It's the least that I owe you." Lucifer assured. He gestured for Alex to pull the metal all the way out and Michael hissed, refusing to scream. The Archangel could no longer see the white of the Morning Star's wings, everything was darkness and he could feel the last of his strength slipping away, the life trickling out of him with every increasingly frantic pulse of his heart...

He'd seen the feather in his brother's hand, though. He'd heard his assurances.

"Wouldn't it be easier now, when I'm not at my full strength? Or you could just wait and watch me die, if it's revenge you're after, Lucifer." He was dying. He was delirious. He was slipping away and his last vision was of his dead brother... As much as he wished it was otherwise, their beloved Son of the Morning was no more, his remains cast into the ocean... and even if he _was_ here, surely he wouldn't be trying to save him? Not after the part Michael had played in his demise...

"That would imply I want you dead, dear brother, which I don't, as it happens. Besides, it wouldn't really be sporting to fight you now and where'd the fun be in that?" The Devil smirked. He placed his feather over the wound and focused his gaze upon it. "As for letting you die from the mad mongrel's wound... your little human might take exception to that. She's quite protective of you, little brother, and quite feisty."

"Alex!" Michael felt a rush of panic. "Where's Alex? Is she alright? I need to see her!" His voice was urgent and anxious, slurred with pain and exhaustion though it was, and he even made a feeble attempt at sitting up.

"Easy there!" Lucifer put a halting hand on the younger Archangel's shoulder, while Alex did the same at his other side.

"I'm right here, Michael. Don't worry." She placated, sitting next to her commander and trying not to let her own panic seep into her voice. "Lucifer, please, you have to heal him now!"

"Alex..." Michael tried to open his eyes. Meanwhile, Lucifer's eyes flashed fire and so did the snowy feather in his fingers. Alex had to shield her eyes against the fierce glare and she felt tense muscles relax under her fingers. When she thought it was safe to look up again, she saw the Archangel's still face and the unblemished skin where the gaping wound had been only moments before. His chest was rising and falling slowly. The angel had only passed out. Alex released the breath she'd been holding and only now allowed herself the luxury of tears. The young woman refused to cry, but she let silent tears trail down her cheeks as she smoothed the torn, bloody material covering Michael's shoulder.

Everything was going to be alright now. As long as Michael was going to be alright, they could work everything else out... Together. She'd listen to him and let him help her. Running away clearly hadn't worked out well for her... or for Michael. Alex would try to do things the Archangel's way this time. As long as he wasn't another person who died because of her, she was willing to be more cooperative.

Michael's obvious concern for her, even when he wasn't fully conscious, had warmed her. Surely the markings couldn't have been warning her against the Archangel and she would do well to trust him from now on. Even if he only cared about her because she was the Chosen One, it was still more than most had ever shown her. Michael had certainly done more for her than anyone else and she might not even be here if it hadn't been for him. He would die for her. He'd proved that. Just as her mother had... Alex didn't want him or anyone else to get hurt because of her, but knowing there was someone who cared enough about her to give up their life for her meant the world to her, especially now that she'd lost Jeep all over again.

Alex wasn't alone anymore.


End file.
